Page 86 of The House Swap

‘No need. You’re doing fine.’

Her pulse kicked sharply.

‘Please can you bring the boat closer?’ she tried again. ‘I’m serious.’

‘So am I.’ He shook his head, as if she was part amusing, part irritating him. ‘You’ve gone what? A few strokes from the boat. Just swim back.’

Poppy turned in the water, orientating herself, but a small swell slapped unexpectedly against the side of her face and she swallowed a mouthful of salt. Coughing, she kicked harder, suddenly aware of how empty the sea was around her.

When she looked back towards the boat, it seemed to have edged further away once more, and Martin had vanished again.

Fear rippled across her skin.

‘Martin!’

This time, she didn’t attempt to hide how scared she was.

He reappeared, moving to the side of the boat and looked down at her. ‘Stop panicking.’

‘I’m not panicking—’ she began, but the lie dissolved as another wave lifted her, showing her a glimpse of coastline far in the distance, too far away to be of any comfort at all. ‘Just bring the boat closer.’

‘You’re wasting energy,’ Martin shouted.

Something about the detached way he spoke had terror blooming in her chest.

He had done this on purpose, waiting until she was far enough out before moving the boat further away.

She kicked towards the boat, arms clumsy as her earlier confidence evaporated. The water no longer felt buoyant, and every stroke seemed to move her less than it should.

‘Martin, please.’ Her throat was thick with emotion as tears threatened.

‘Come on. You can make it.’

Not reassuring encouragement. It sounded more like he was goading her.

The distance between them seemed to go on for ever. One second the boat looked closer, the next it seemed to slide away again.

Poppy’s breath came too fast and her arms burned.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

But it was too late. She already was, and try as she might to not think about it, all she could focus on was the worst possible fear that he intended to leave her here.

Her legs thrashed harder. Water splashed into her face and she choked again, coughing and losing the rhythm of her breathing.

‘Please, help me,’ she begged.

Martin remained where he was, one hand gripping the rail. She could see his face clearer now, but not fully his expression. The sunlight hit the scar on his cheek, making the ridged skin bright and raw-looking.

‘Roll onto your back for a second,’ he called. ‘It will help you get your breath.’

‘I don’t want to get my breath. I just want you to bring the boat over.’

Even as she shouted the words back, the effort made her voice crack.

He exhaled or maybe laughed. She couldn’t quite tell. ‘You know you’re making this harder than it needs to be.’

His words hit her like a slap. He was enjoying this.